Ennui
by amaXdear
Summary: After a long life of doing nothing, Kurt decides to go on the offense. He wants a boyfriend, and he's going to get one.


**Title**: Ennui  
**Autho**r: amaXdear  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s**): Puck/Kurt, mentions of Santana/Brittany and Mike/Matt, appearances by Jewfro, Finn, and Mercedes  
**Author's Note**: This was written using the prompt 'ennui', many many months ago, so the way that Kurt and Mercedes join the Cheerios is completely made up. The only really notable thing about this fic is that it was number 1,000 at the Team Kurt-Puck community, and apparently there's one line in here that's, like, the Purt manifesto or something, which makes me feel warm and fuzzy.  
**Warning**: A little cursing, some sexuality  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Nothing creative to say. No sue.  
**Words**: 3,675  
**Summary**: After a long life of doing nothing, Kurt decides to go on the offense. He wants a boyfriend, and he's going to get one.

Kurt Hummel was bored. Not only was he bored with his dreary history class, or with the pathetic close-mindedness of Lima's mediocre majority-he was bored with the whole of his life. He needed someone to die violently, or be kidnapped, just to keep things interesting.

_Or_, he thought, watching a gaggle of girls in the back row fawn over a picture of Robert Pattinson in some stupid magazine, _I could just get a boyfriend._

That always seemed to help, even if he wasn't too keen on the idea of his boyfriend having an insatiable desire to suck his blood. Sure, it looked good on paper, but without the proper nutrients safely delivered by his red blood cells, his complexion would lose its trademark flawlessness. And he wasn't ready to make that sort of sacrifice. But still-boyfriend. Good idea.

The question was… who?

Kurt's eyes scanned the room. Obviously he couldn't pick just _anyone_. He had standards, which was why his eyes slipped right over Jacob Ben Israel. Even discounting the obscenely burnt-orange steel wool that made up his Jewfro, he had a wholly unattractive way of snorting and letting his mouth hang open when he was focusing on something.

Two seats over sat Matt Rutherford. Kurt looked at him appraisingly, before moving on. He was convinced that Matt and Mike were fucking. There was no other explanation for why they weren't angry about Santana and Brittany having sex on the side; they were using their lesbian girlfriends as beards, and that was not something Kurt wanted to complicate any further.

Next to Matt… now _he _had potential. His name was Jonah, and he was perfect. He had flaxen hair and deep green eyes, like warm rays of sunlight over a mossy pond. Every (visible) inch of his rippling muscles was the same shade of glowing golden tan. He had never said a nasty word to Kurt, and his grades were impeccable. Kurt had never crushed on him before because they had never really interacted, but he was _definitely_ boyfriend material.

Kurt allowed himself a minute and a half of fantasy before moving on. Perfection was boring. He wanted a challenge.

The next person he saw was Puck, who was drawing yet another penis on his desk. Perfect.

(-)

"It's been two weeks," Kurt announced, flopping onto his white leather sofa. Brittany sat, Indian style, on the floor, looking slightly less than sympathetic. He had other friends whom he would rather call if he was interested in serious emotional boding, but Brittany was the only one who wouldn't raise an objection to Puck, and he wanted to actually make the conquest before defending his actions. "I have pulled out my _best_ flirting. I've complimented him, played hard to get, shown an interest in things he cares about, worn tight jeans… and _nothing_."

"Maybe he's not into guys," she suggested softly. "He's had sex with like half the Cheerios, you know."

"Maybe," Kurt conceded, pouting a little bit. Not that he would admit that. "But Santana's had sex with a lot of guys, too, and she still sleeps with you."

Brittany shrugged. "She won't actually sleep. She says that's too gay."

"Whatever," he snapped. "The point is, I want Puck to be my boyfriend and I don't feel like giving up!"

Kurt sank into a deep period of self-reflection. Well, semi-deep. Was it worth all the effort? Puck was kind of… unrefined. He would probably prefer a nice, polite boyfriend who could take a goddamn hint every once in a while! The very day before, in Glee, Kurt had sat next to Puck and made some insignificant, witty comment about his guitar. Puck had chatted with him, Kurt said, "I've always wanted to play guitar," and fluttered his lashes, and Puck replied:

"Dude, you should totally talk to my mom. I mean, she's a florist now and more of a housewife kind of person, you know, clean the dishes and organize play-dates crap, but she used to be a total hippie. She taught me how to play when I was seven, and I usually couldn't be bothered with anything that didn't have 'ball' in the name."

Seriously? Kurt was practically_ sitting in his lap_, and Puck told him to go find his mother. Disgusting.

But, there in his basement, Kurt softened a bit. Puck had definite potential; he could have said, "Fuck off, homo" or shrugged and turned away. Instead, his eyes had lit up and he got into the conversation. He could be fricking cute, if he made any effort, at all. He was already attractive, in his own brutish way…

In fact, if Kurt could get Puck to behave like a boyfriend, their relationship might actually work.

"-out?"

Kurt blinked, and briefly felt bad for ignoring Brittany. She was too innocent to be exposed to the real world, in which people didn't always listen to what other people have to say.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, trying to sound like he was struck by her intelligence instead of trying to figure out what she had said.

"I mean, you're a guy, right, so it wouldn't be weird if you asked him out instead. You don't have to wait for him to do anything."

His jaw dropped, and he stared at Brittany like the sun was suddenly shining out of her every orifice. He slipped off of the couch and dropped to his knees, kissing her fervently on both cheeks.

"Brittany, you are brilliant. No matter what anyone ever tells you, remember that."

"That's really nice, Kurt," she said, smiling at him.

(-)

Kurt took great care in getting dressed the next morning. He had googled "how to ask a guy out," and all of the results had said to look flirty, so he chose slightly tight jeans and a red shirt. Finn had said that red was his color. Of course, Finn also considered Rachel to be a potential romantic interest, but whatever.

Thinking up a place to go had been the hardest part, but Kurt was reasonably confident in his decision. Window-shopping wasn't his favorite pass-time-he preferred actual shopping-but it could appeal to both of them. It was low cost, so Puck could afford to pay and not compromise his delicate masculinity, it involved time spent at the mall, there were plenty of opportunities for conversation but plenty of distractions in case of awkward pauses, and Kurt was willing to sit through a movie with a maximum of five explosions.

Perfect.

He waited until Glee that day and sat near Puck, waiting for a distraction. It came much earlier than he was expecting, because Mr. Schue foolishly tried to give the solo in "Believe" to Tina instead of Rachel. One of her dads was obsessed with Cher, which meant that she deserved every song associated with her. Or something. Whatever, Kurt wasn't really listening. The point was, he used the volume provided by the following tantrum to hide his conversation with Puck.

"Hey," he said, banishing all of his nerves to some distant corner of his brain-the same place where he stored football plays and last year's trends. "Have you heard of this new movie-I'm sure you have, it oozes testosterone-"

Puck's eyes practically jumped out of their sockets. "_Death March_? Dude, I have been waiting for that to come out for _years_."

If he was being honest, Kurt expected that. He restrained the urge to roll his eyes.

"Right, that thing. So, it looks good?"

"It looks_ awesome_."

"I was planning on wandering around the mall this weekend and maybe stopping by the theater to see it. Do you want to go with me?"

"Why?" Puck's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "We're not really friends."

"No, we're not," Kurt agreed. Maybe he should speak a little slower? Puck claimed to have gone out with plenty of women, so he should know how this went, right? "I meant, like a date."

Three minutes later Kurt was sourly pursing his lips as Puck slowly calmed down from the burst of guffaws, then the wheezy chuckles, and finally the cascade of giggles that had escaped him.

"Dude- _dude_-"

"A 'no' would have sufficed," Kurt said coldly.

"Dude-are you fucking_ serious_-" Puck choked out.

"Can it, Puck," Mercedes ordered, leaning over Kurt and grabbing his forearm. Bless that girl's heart. She had no idea what was going on, but she was a fast study. "Like there aren't a boatload of guys who would die to get with this."

She swept a hand down Kurt's (admittedly enviable) body, hooked an arm through his, and stood. "Mr. Schue, it's been fun, but Rachel can just have this diva-fest by herself, right? 'Cause we out."

Their exit couldn't have been more perfect if there had been a marching band playing their exit music. Kurt and Mercedes strutted out of that chorus room like Gisele herself was second to them, and if Kurt's hips swayed at metronome-perfect time at the precise angles that would allow Puck maximum time to regret what he lost-well, how could he know? Mercedes very kindly waited until they were around the hallway corner, heading in the wrong direction from the parking lot so that any Glee clubbers who followed their example wouldn't run into them. Then she pushed him into a locker.

"Boy, what the hell were you doing?" she demanded.

"Getting a boyfriend. I was sick of waiting," he snapped. "Oh, don't give me that look. Mercy, I'll be seventeen in _four months_. We're going to be _juniors_ next year, I've had my license for almost a year, girls our age are getting pregnant-it is high time I got some action."

Mercedes put a hand on her hip and continued giving him the look. "I know. But _Puck_? I would feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if you could tell me before you go for someone like him so I can be prepared to punch back."

"He's a challenge. He's hot. He's vaguely smart. And I'm looking forward to handcuffing him to my shoulder bag and breaking the homophobic sexist core of his being."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. Kurt raised his own. After a moment she sighed and kissed his cheek, and he felt an overwhelming waterfall of warm, liquid gratefulness. She laced their arms together and began walking.

"All right. But you better know what the hell you're doing, okay? And keep me clued in."

"Agreed. Well, Plan A failed miserably."

"What's A?"

"Ask."

"So what's Plan B?"

"Beautify."

(-)

"Good luck," Mercedes muttered, before splitting off and taking a different route to Glee. They had mutually agreed that Kurt's individual sex appeal would be more powerful when Puck didn't have Mercedes distracting him. She had already convinced him to make his hair look _slightly_ sex-ruffled, helped find the right shade of lipgloss, and inexplicably managed to apply a warm, light, almost not-there layer of eyeshadow that, combined with subtle eyeliner, made his eyes look twice as wide and three times as bright. She had done her job.

He watched her go, then smoothed his leather pants and took a drink from the water fountain. Well, sort of-he wasn't low-class enough to actually taint his body with that disgusting fluid, but it was a very easy way to make sure that his ass was the first thing in Puck's view when the supposedly not-gay player rounded the corner. Which he did, ten seconds later.

Kurt stood up slowly and flipped his purple sequined scarf around his neck, being sure not to hide the spectacular man-cleavage provided by the black v-neck that showed off his pale skin to fantastic advantage.

"Puck," he acknowledged, stepping in front of the other boy to enter the chorus room.

"Ladies first?" Puck snickered, holding the door.

"If you insist."

Kurt's hand _may_ have grazed against Puck's chest when he walked past him, and there was a _slight_ possibility that he couldn't resist letting it drift down a little to touch those gorgeous abs, but Puck _definitely_ sucked in a breath and raised an eyebrow.

"So that's how it's gonna go?" he asked, following Kurt into the full room.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not gay."

"Sure you're not."

After all, it wasn't like Puck stared when Kurt turned a few of the casual bounces that Mr. Schue choreographed into sensual full-body thrusts.

"Cute," Puck said when Kurt sank into a chair near him, folding his legs.

"I know I am."

"So now your hag's into this gay-ass plan to seduce me, or whatever?" he sneered, looking at Mercedes, who was not-so-subtly watching.

"Gay ass?" Kurt repeated, playing the part of a wide-eyed innocent. "Seduction? Now you're speaking my language. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider? Because I was planning on being lonely Friday night, but I'm always open to suggestions."

"Sorry, I've got plans. I'm really looking forward to ogling pictures of boobs on the internet. You know, those things that girls have? As in, not you."

"Ouch."

Despite re-affirming his sexuality at every turn, Puck was the perfect flirty gentleman. He even_ flexed his muscles_ once. Kurt decided that there were two explanations. One: Puck considered praise from a gay guy to be the ultimate affirmation of his studliness, as in _See girls? Even dudes can't resist this_. Two-Puck was so freaking gay it was not funny. They were still flirting when they left the chorus room. Which was when Finn noticed.

"Hey, guys," he said, looking at them strangely. "I didn't know you were friends."

"We're not," Puck said at the same time that Kurt declared "Oh of _course_ we are."

"Okay… I was just, you know, making sure you weren't killing each other or anything. So, what _are_ you doing?"

"Puck was hitting on me and I was trying to decide whether or not to reject him," Kurt said cheekily, touching Puck's biceps. "What do you think?"

"Um- I- I- I don't-"

Puck rolled his eyes, but didn't quite remove Kurt's hand. "Can it, Hudson, he was just kidding. Right, Kurt?"

"Aw, come on, Puckie," Kurt simpered. He barely managed to keep his voice from wavering with laughter. Puck probably would have found it funny, too… except a trio of letter-jacketed figures happened to pass them just in time to hear every word. They stopped and stared, and Puck shoved Kurt away.

"What the hell is your problem?" he hissed loudly. "Just because we're in Glee together doesn't mean I have to put up with your stupid gay crushes so stop fucking _stalking _me, okay?"

Kurt raised both eyebrows and crossed his arms. Five jocks were staring him down, but he could feel the psychic manifestation of Mercedes at his back. A cloying, model-precise smile crept over his face.

"Okay," he said without moving his lips. On the inside, he laughed at Puck's naïve assumption that Kurt gave up that easily. He turned his eyes to ice and stared Puck down, promising him that he would pay for that. Puck didn't get the memo.

"Listen, Kurt," he snapped. "I have no idea what the hell put this idea in your head, but I am _not_ interested guys. And even if I were, what makes you think I would date _you_? I'm a stud, dude. I date Cheerios, not _Gleeks_."

He fixed Kurt with his patented jock glare, and stormed off, his posse falling behind. For a moment, Kurt stood there, wondering if Puck knew how unbelievably sexy his glare was. If he stopped wearing his letterjacket, and carried his guitar around more, he could totally pull off the uncouth, misunderstood bad boy look.

For another moment, Kurt stood there and strategized. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate, and pulled out his cell phone, pressing speed dial 2.

"Mercedes? Yeah, hi. No. Really? Wow. No, no, on second thought I'm not surprised. It's just so- wait, no, stop distracting me! It's time to go with Plan C. I know, I know, but we did talk about it, and… I need to do it, please don't ask me why, I just… I need you to do it with me, okay? Please?"

(-)

Kurt sat in his car the next morning, taking deep breaths. His diva playlist was on at full volume, and it was doing a _very _slow job of cheering him up. Usually Barbara, Cher, Madonna, Liza, Aretha and Beyonce could get him flying in three songs flat. After a full run-throughs of the 34-song playlist-from home to parking lot-he decided to just get it over with. Kurt glanced at the mirror, staring himself straight in the eye, and said "Showtime."

With quick, snappish movements, he yanked off his black McQueen jacket, and exited the car.

His entrance to McKinley was perfect; his hips snapped, his butt swayed, and his legs were displayed to perfection. A few people stared. Several gaped. Some girls giggled their delight to be in on the joke, bit their lips, and waved. Kurt waggled his fingers at them and took one last deep breath. He placed a hand on one jutted hip, treating the whole hallway like his own personal runway.

Puck was leaning against a locker, chatting lazily with a few fellow jocks. Those jocks (except for Finn) scattered as soon as they saw Kurt making a bee-line for them. Puck looked over to see what had caught their attention: a Cheerio uniform. Kurt's Cheerio uniform. His jaw dropped.

"Happy?" Kurt asked. "I've just done the only possible thing I could do to make myself even gayer than I already was."

"What the hell," Puck said. It wasn't a question. Kurt's voice climbed a few notes higher in exasperation.

"What does it look like, Puck? Do I have to spell it out for you? Because I'm pretty sure wearing the uniform qualifies me to do that. Give me a D-A-T-E! As part of Coach Sylvester's reinstatement, she's not allowed to terrify her students, so I'm a Cheerio for as long as I want to be and this is officially the hardest I have worked for just about anything. Take me out or I _kill_ you."

_Of course, I might just kill you anyway_, he thought wrathfully. Puck wasn't even listening! His wrath faded a bit when he realized that Puck was totally, completely checking him out. Like, not even being subtle about it either. Most of the hallway had discarded subtlety too; they were openly staring, and Finn kept inching closer.

For ten seconds, Kurt was content to stand there and be ogled. Then he snapped his fingers in front of Puck's nose impatiently.

"Listen, Puckerman, I had to endure and will _continue_ to endure Sue Sylvester for two hours minimum every day, and I've forced Mercedes to endure her too. I am not leaving this school today without a date."

"Fine," Puck said lowly. He grabbed Kurt's elbow and pulled him closer, lowering his voice to a growl so the hallway full of eavesdroppers couldn't hear him. Once again, Kurt was struck by the sexiness of him. Because _damn_. "But just because _you_ asked _me_, that does not make me the girl in this- thing."

Kurt sneered, both at his naïveté and his reluctance to use the word "relationship."

"There is no girl, Puck. That's the point."

"Friday night, seven?"

"You pay."

"I drive."

"My car."

"I pick the movie."

"You are not taking me to a movie. Be creative."

"No."

"Yes."

Kurt glanced around-some people had wondered away, bored, now that they could no longer hear every single thing that was being said. Most of them were creeping closer, except for Finn. Finn was getting kind of creeped out by the insane amount of sexual energy radiating between the two boys who were slowly drawing closer to each other even as they glowered, and he mumbled something about finding a bathroom. Kurt's voice dropped to a hiss.

"I have put _way_ too much effort into this to be satisfied with movies and pizza, Puck. Make an effort in return, and I'll make it worth your while." Puck's eyes glittered with interest, and Kurt felt his lips curve upward in a self-satisfied smile even as Puck leered at him. "If all goes well," he said slowly, moving so close that he could feel the other boy's breath, "I'll put out by the third date. _If you make an effort_."

"Third date's a pretty long way away," Puck murmured. He did this sexy thing with his eyes, and Kurt's resolve almost wavered. Who knew eyes could do that? He reminded himself that letting some guy into his pants in the middle of a school hallway before they even went on their first date was tacky-even if he was totally ready to ditch the virgin thing.

"It's a better offer than you'll get from your pregnant not-girlfriend," he countered, clearing his throat. For half a second, he was afraid that he had broken the tension.

Then Puck's arm was around his waist, Puck's hand was in his hair, Puck's lips were on his, _Puck _was everywhere, and the tension exploded into a thousand fiery pieces. Kurt gasped as his body moved closer, and Puck took the opportunity to sweep his tongue once, quickly, into Kurt's mouth before breaking the contact. Wait, when had his hand moved from waist to ass?

"Deal."

Puck kissed him twice, close-mouthed, sweetly, and gave Kurt's ass a gentle, but unmistakable squeeze before he sauntered down the hall. Kurt stared. In less than three seconds, Puck had somehow managed to remind him that he was a virgin with zero dating experience who was pursuing the most sought-after hottie in school. Weakly, Kurt wondered if he had a chance.

Then, he reminded himself that he had won. He cleared his throat and straightened his new uniform, nodding to the fellow Cheerios scattered thinly around the corridor. A smug grin was on his face as he made his way to first period math.

Life was about to get interesting.


End file.
